The Pinky-Swear
by A.A. Pessimal
Summary: Expanding on a Suspiciously Specific Denial made by Bernadette in-canon. Reflecting on current world affairs and wondering if Bernadette's famously relaxed attitude to lab discipline might have somehow contributed. And the need for a pinky-swear binding all parties, never to speak of this incident ever again, so long as we both shall live, amen.


_**Nightmare Fuel**_

_A quick drabble in "The Big Bang Theory", fuelled by watching a re-run of an old episode and comparing it to current events. Life indeed imitates art._

Amy Farrah-Fowler met her old friend Bernadette Rostenkowski-Wolowitz for a quiet lunch in downtown Pasadena. Both were doctors in their respective intellectual fields and quietly appreciated the chance to compare notes over lunch and a drink. And without Penny, they could freely talk on a higher intellectual level without shutting out a mutual friend who wasn't equipped to talk science.

"Whoo, he's _cute_!" Bernadette breathed, as the waiter receded from their table.

"I could study his brains all day!" Amy agreed, reaching for the wine bottle. "Whoo indeed!"

They took happy glugs of their wine.

"What's new in Neuroscience?" Bernadette inquired. Amy shrugged.

"Nothing much. I'm just back from the airport. Waving off those surplus monkeys on their business-class flight to their new home. And you?"

Bernadette sighed. "We had a spill again. They just don't make secure confinement jars the way they used to."

"Another one?" Amy asked, politely. "Who got sent into quarantine this time?"

"Oh, coupla expendable grad students. Nobody important." Bernadette shrugged. She'd been in the lab down the corridor when the clean-up squad arrived. It wasn't her problem.

Amy sighed.

"Don't tell Sheldon. It's Date Night later. If he knows I was havin' lunch with you after another lab spill, he'll demand I decontaminate. Could be fun if he didn't insist on wearing his NBC suit."

Bernadette nodded, soberly. Sheldon would insist she decontaminated too, before passing the front door of 4a.

"Pinky-swear?"

"Pinky-swear." Amy confirmed. They reached across and locked little fingers. Around Sheldon Cooper, this was frequently necessary.

"So your monkeys?" Bernadette inquired.

"Apparently Caltech is the only research facility with a surplus of this species of capuchin. They are endangered in West Africa as the native population insists on turning them into bushmeat. You know, monkey-burgers. Big Cheetahs. So the Sierra Leonese government made a request to the United States. The State Department asked Caltech and quoted diplomatic relations, ecological considerations, good public relations. As they are paying for the flight, I was tasked with identifying six breeding pairs and despatching them by air to a safe animal sanctuary in West Africa, where they will be allowed to breed and released back into the wild. No doubt to end up in their natural habitat, which regrettably appears to be in between two halves of a burger bun with shitto sauce."

"With_ what_ sauce?" Bernadette squeaked, alarmed.

"Shitto sauce. It is a common condiment in West Africa. I understand it is the native word for a strong pepper sauce akin to jalapeno."

Bernadette relaxed.

"The Sierra Leonese Ambassador was at the airport, He shook hands with me and gave me several bottles as a thank-you. Would Howard like one? It would appeal to his sense of humor."

Bernadette accepted a bottle of shitto with a shudder. But she accepted Howard would make a hurricane of bad jokes about the name. She reminded herself to remember to laugh when he did.

"I plan to give one to Leonard and Sheldon. Leonard would appreciate the opportunity to play a mildly amusing prank on Sheldon, who I confidently predict will also be freaked out by the name."

Amy smiled, briefly.

"Two of the monkeys I despatched originally came from your lab, incidentally. But I checked their records to ensure they were uncontaminated. Apparently you used them for common cold research. I foresee no issues with that."

Bernadette went very pale.

"Common cold research." she said, weakly. "Oopsies."

Amy studied her friend intently. She frowned.

"Bernadette, why do I get worried when you say "_oopsies_" in that tone of voice? Is there anything you aren't telling me?"

"No, nothing to worry about! I'm almost sure we didn't inadvertently cross the Ebola virus with the common cold! That would be a very irresponsible and wicked thing to do! I mean, one of the most contagious viruses known to man, but not a lethal one, spliced with a deadly killer for which we have no vaccine..."

"Bernadette, when your voice gets so high-pitched only Raj Kooprathali's dog can hear you, I get _concerned_." Amy said, slowly.

"No, that would be _wicked._ We didn't do it."

Bernadette paused and composed herself.

"I'm sure it'll all blow over."

She offered her hand, little finger extended.

"Pinky-swear?" she said, hopefully.

After a moment, Amy Farrah-Fowler offered her own pinky. And they swore never to talk about this, ever again.


End file.
